


If Blue is what makes me feel happiness...

by TheMostCrimsonOfCalicos



Series: Happenings: PKMN shorts [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Car Accidents, Child Death, Hurt No Comfort, I have found another use for the tag, Mention of blood, Original Character(s), Original Pokemon Trainer - Freeform, Sad, and I think that's wonderful, now that I check back on this, sad cats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23219935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMostCrimsonOfCalicos/pseuds/TheMostCrimsonOfCalicos
Summary: Skitty lives a gentle blue life with her girl Mavvy. Then comes the grating squeals of tires that tears everything apart and paints everything red.Alternatively,A Skitty and her young trainer get into a car accident
Series: Happenings: PKMN shorts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1669492
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	If Blue is what makes me feel happiness...

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in later 2019 and never posted it even though I loved it a lot. I think I was nervous. Maybe because I was trying out my wordplay and such. Well! I hope whoever reads enjoys!

Skitty does not know what has happened.

Skitty is shaking and terrified; adrenaline pumping through her small body with enough force to almost make her muscles collapse.

Skitty remembers loud sounds, remembers seeing the other car coming far too fast, remembers fluffy herself up, Mavvy's fingers tight in her fur, the fear-scent overtaking her senses.

She remembers wanting, with all of her self, to protect.

And she remembers being recalled into her Luxury Ball, body close by but sent so far away, too far away. Away from the grating screech of metal and the screech of her little girl's screaming.

Her everything became soft and plush, eminating safety and pampurment; this was a safe place, she'd be safe here. But she didn't care about her safety, it was Mavvy she needed to see. She strains against the cloud-tender touch, the faux-environmental calm and the undeserved lack of hurt. If she needs to hurt for just a bit, just to see her Mavvy, to save her Mavvy, then that's fine. She just needs to be with her.

She pushes. And pushes. And she does not budge. When she stops to focus and feel, she feels the tiny fingers holding her ball close, holding her essence, protective. Mavvy, protecting her, when it was her Pokemon's unspoken duty.

That wasn't right. It was not something she could bear to stand. Her girl in danger's embrace while Skitty hid, clutched within hers.

When she focuses more, she can hear crunching metal and Mavvy's egg-parents yelling. The high-energy music of the metal contraption, a 'song' that she knows her girl regards quite fondly, abruptly stops. She gets the sensation of spinning. Right there with them, but safe and sound and untouched. Feeling what they felt in wisps, but unaffected by the consequences, like a Ghost.

A lurch, a rock, a muted crash, breaking glass. The wild, Incinerate-tight heated spin comes to an end. The impact jars them all one more time, and Skitty feels her ball fling and roll. Roll and roll, and then meander to a rocking stop.

Skitty can no longer feel those hands she loves.

A flash of red, red, red, red.

Let her out.

Red. Red. Red.

She needs to get out.

Red. Rust. Crimson. Pulsing, timely. Flickering, heated. Red. She has to get out.

Everything in her wants to leave this safety and get to her girl.

Red. Red. White.

And she is freed. And she stands.

Hours from now, though time will be meaningless to her then, she will look back on this moment. Her strife and effort, her elation at releasing herself from entrapment. Her anxious anticipation, her body thruming with energy and ready to do anything to aid her trainer.

To protect Mavvy like she had Skitty.

As it turns out, humans could not be crushed. They could not be burned. They could not be pierced.

If they were, they broke, turned to charcoal, punctured and bled.

And bled.

And kept bleeding.

Blood is red, broken pokeballs flash rosey variants, the fire flares oranges and apples.

Mavvy's favorite color is blue, like her eyes, like her favored toys, like the collar Skitty wore. In the moonlight, with the fire licking at the car's remains, the color of the red clings undeterred to her distaste, to her favor of another, an insistent leadening thickness to her blue dress.

That dress is ruined, drenched so heavy in metallic liquid cloy. The scent is in her mouth, of red, of fire, of rust, of loss.

The dress is ruined. Its color is ruined.

Mavvy is ruined.

Skitty doesn't know when the helping-humans and pokemon take her away. Why were they here now? It was too late now. Mavvy wasn't moving now.

She couldn't move. She couldn't laugh, or play, or pet Skitty anymore. Not ever. Not ever again.

It didn't matter now. Nothing did.

The surroundings fade away around her, and ruby exude tinges everything.

Skitty doesn't have a favorite color, but red is certainly her least.

**Author's Note:**

> If you see any spelling errors that I've somehow missed, feel free to let me know. Please tell me what you thought! :)
> 
> (Not sure if I'll ever write it, but rest assured that Skitty will be alright one day.)


End file.
